HATE TO SAY...GOODBYE

You are special, mysterious and so much wild

You are packed with surprises unlimited

Life with you is like a miracle

And without you, it is lonesome and lull

I’d waited for so long now

Waited for your love…

Waited for you to open up

Waited for ‘us' to happen

I’d hate to say ‘goodbye’

But now, I can’t help it…

You seem so close to my heart some times

Yet, at other times, you look like a total stranger

But at the end of the day,

You make me feel so good

Make me realize the truth all over again that

You are my love, You are my life

You are my pain, You are my pleasure

You are my only hope, You are my destiny

I’d hate to say ‘goodbye’

But now, it is inevitable…

Its true…

I miss your laughter

I miss your tender touch

I miss your kiss

Miss all the moments I’d shared with you

I miss your love and…my life

I’d hate to ‘goodbye’

But now, I have no other choice...

BEST ENEMIES!!!

I looked on as the bright lights of the terminal gradually disappeared at a distance. As we sped away from the airport, a sadness swept over me, filling my inside. I felt as if I was loosing something dear. It felt funny. I had never felt like this before about my brother. I tried to focus…

We never had any pleasant times together. It was just that we grew up together, lived under the same roof and shared similar genes. And yeah…we fought, owing to the tiny age gap between us. And we ‘fought like dogs,’ my mother used to say.

A slight drizzle started outside and I felt tiny wet drops sprinkling against my skin. I closed the window and sat back again, thinking.

The rain…we played in the rain as small kids, jumping, splashing water on each other. But somehow, at last, we usually ended up crying or making each other cry. I smiled…remembering the day we fought in rain, doubled up in a muddy water puddle, in the back yard. When my mother found us, she gave us nice thrashing followed by a warm bath and a clean set of clothes. The next day, both of us fell ill…

When it was cold, we snuggled up, close to each other like little cute puppies. But once we woke up, the story repeated itself.

On his eleventh birthday, I had burnt his hand and as a revenge, on my birthday, which actually came only a few days later, he messed up my cake, before my friends came over. Wow! We were enemies!!!

We fought for everything. We fought for our parents. We fought for the TV.

As we grew up and became less violent, the only interaction we had too vanished. However, my brother actually started guiding me, helping me with my studies and career.

I looked at my parents-dad silently driving and mom with her eyes closed, a tiny tear materializing at one end of her eye: she is apparently thinking about her son, my brother.

I was startled and shook out of my thoughts by the vibration of my phone. Clearing my voice, I softly said into it, “hello!”

“Its me,” he said. The very sound of his voice moistened my eyes. God! I’m crying!

“Just wanted to say,” he continued, awkwardly, “I’ll miss you, sis.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I crocked and then less awkwardly I said, “I love you, bro!”

Well, he is my brother and I love him! Of course we never had any pleasant times together. Or did we?!


Inspired from a my best friend's experience :) Thanks Amu for sharing it with me. Luv U!!

THE FORSAKEN...

He was woken up by a dirty drop falling on his forehead. The drop originated at the edge of his thin and flimsy iron shelter under which, he took his refuge and fell straight on his forehead, causing him to start. He trembled involuntarily for a while and slowed down gradually as he succeeded slowly in gathering his bearings.
It was damp outside, owing to the heavy downpour the previous night. He got up and sat in his little hub, examining the bruise caused due to the fight he had the previous day. He yanked of the little insects greedily feasting on his blood and continued looking at the injury with an eye of an eager chemist. He got up suddenly, ran to the nearby pool of water and washed it. But the bleeding wouldn't stop and the pain only worsened. He regretted his earlier action. But, he remembered correctly. His mother gave the same treatment to his injury before applying the thick green balm. it didn't give this reaction back then.
He suddenly realized that it was time to forget about the pain, which only seemed to grow by the minute. It was time to get to work.
He worked strenuously till the sun shined bright, carrying the stinking garbage to the waiting rickshaw from all the houses in the neighborhood. The rickshaw puller, his boss, was a mysterious man-always seemed to be a very cheerful and kind man, dancing unsteadily with a sweet smell hovering over him. He wondered where the smell came from. The boss had another thing which puzzled him-a brightly burning, thin stick emitting smoke between his lips, which initially frightened him. He choked when the boss had blown the smoke onto his face. But, lately, he had started to like the smell and the smoke. When he had enough money, he would try the burning stick.
When he had collected enough coins for his breakfast, he bought a stale piece of bread and ran quickly to hide and eat it. Exhibition of such a hard-earned prize food would attract the big boys, who would snatch his only breakfast and beat him up like how they did the previous day.
His stomach growled. He felt sick in his stomach as he took his first bite and he felt pressure building up inside his mouth, ready to push his bread out. He resisted it and waited until it died off. The bread didn't taste good, like it did when his mother gave him. He gobbled up the remaining part and settled down for another nap. But, sleep wouldn't come. He remembered his mother's voice when she sang him to sleep.
His head ached and throbbed. He put his his palm on his forehead, just like how his mother did when he felt this way before. His forehead felt warm and sweaty. He got up again and ran into the open though he didn't feel like running. It was time for school. He stood at a place from where , he could see kids running into the school building.
They were different-a lot different. They resembled neither him nor the big boys. They wore shoes and socks. They wore clean clothes and carried big bags. He enjoyed watching them.
There was a school boy as tall as he was, standing there, his mother bending down. She was setting his well-parted hair. The school school boy's hair look very impressive. He raised his sweaty palm to part his hair like the school boy's looking at his reflection in the small pool of dirty water on the street. When he got convinced that his ruffled hair looked like the boy's, he let out a sigh satisfied and looked at the school boy again. He moved closer to them to hear the mother's instructing her son to come back straight to his home after his school. He felt happy . He could go where ever he pleased. He had nobody to instruct him. He was a free bird, a master of his own.
But, as the mother kissed the school boy, and waved to him, he moved still closer hoping to catch her eye. She turned back without even looking at him and walked away as he stared after her. He turned back and ran in the opposite direction as the school boy walked slowly into his class.

DAD'S ANGEL...

There she was, standing amidst the beautiful flowers, looking prettier than the flowers themselves.She is my only daughter-my angel, the most striking girl I had ever known."She is no longer a girl," my wife often remarks, mockingly, "she is a woman now."But for my eyes, she is still that little, milk-toothed girl, wearing a small red frock, two little pony tails tied up with two little red ribbons, waving to me, tearfully as she walked into her school.I can never forget the day, when I first took her tiny frame in my arms and couldn't help,but awe at her resemblance to my own mother (I had lost her when I was very young).I had been grateful to my wife ever since she had gifted me with this tiny creature- the creature that absorbed all my time and thoughts. I had planned with extreme care and sincerity and worked ferociously to make her future more secure. Working for her sake gave me an immense happiness and satisfaction I had never dreamed possible.I ardently wished to be the only audience for her first step, her first word, or in fact, her first anything.Much to my surprise (I would rather say I was shocked), in spite of the amount of time I had spent with her, her first utterance was 'mama.' Not dada! But mama! My wife beamed at her and I just stayed quiet.She was so full of wonders and surprises. Everything she did was an achievement-her fist day at school, her first trophy, her first bicycle ride, her father's day greeting card (I always took pride in it as she made it with her own little hands.)And I was her 'Super dad'!...the greatest hero in her life, and an 'all-knower'. I was her best friend. She was as proud of me as I was of her. She was the loveliest and the most adorable child any father could ever have. Somehow, I had failed to realize that this phase was transient. As she stepped into her teens, her world widened. As her world widened, I became more and more insignificant, though her place in my life remained undeterred.She kept secrets from me...She was reluctant to let me into her room, which was almost always filled with her friends. Before I knew what was happening, the distance between us grew. "She needs privacy." Her mother always seemed to understand her. It was at this particular time that she had gifted me, on 'Father's day", a beautiful photograph that we had taken together."I love you, dad," she said, tears in her eyes. I was elated to learn that she still loves her father. It was one of those rare moments when I had tears in my eyes. She added, "Super dads don't cry."We spent the entire day together and it dawned on me that her priorities had changed over time and it was quite natural. I started coping up with this change. Suddenly, my daughter was a woman.When she was twenty five, she wanted to get married (that was the biggest shock I had ever got)."She is too young, " I argued with my wife and the 'practical thinker' laughed and said, "I was younger than her when we had her. Stop being an over possessive father, dear." She tried to put some sense in my mind.Now, as my daughter stood amidst the flowers looking beautiful than ever, in her bridal wear, smiling at me I prayed silently for her, asking God to shower all the happiness on her. I never realized that she was beside me, when she whispered playfully in my ear-"Super dad is praying for his daughter. God bless him."


Inspired from the movie 'Father of the Bride'

THE REJECTION...

"I'm supposed to reject him," I reminded myself again.
this is not the first time I am rejecting a man's love. In fact, earlier, I had carried off the routine with a handful of men, without any damage- "You are a very nice man. I like you. But, sorry...I am not ready for any sort of commitments right now..." and so on.
But, now, I have this strange feeling that this one is going to be more difficult than the others. Besides the fact that he is my best friend, there is something else- something indefinite, something indefinable that tells me that tonight is not an easy night...
I had been acutely aware of his feelings for me for the past few months, owing to the indications he had been giving me. Somehow, I hadn't taken any of them seriously. Nor did I give them much of a thought as I had assumed that the disaster is a thing of distant future. Unfortunately, it landed very soon- a lot sooner than I had expected.
The meaning was unmistakable and he left me in no doubt regarding his intentions.
"It is about us," he said over the phone in the morning, "meet me tonight."
No sir! commitment is the last thing on my mind, right now... "Sure," I heard myself saying, "I'll be there."
Since then, I could hardly think of anything else. At Lunch too, I could hardly eat anything and now, I'm starved.
"Stop staring at the mirror, you fool," I scolded myself as I brushed my hair again. I had spent more time than usual in front of the mirror, dressing with extreme care.
"I'm supposed to reject him," I said sternly to the mirror. I was satisfied as my voice was apparently firm. But what am I doing all this for? God save me!!!
--------
He sat there quite comfortably and as soon as he saw me, he stood up with courtesy. He was staring at me, admiring and my heart sank. Damn it! I gave him a smile- a real big one. Stop smiling! Just stop it!!
"You... You look beautiful," he said almost inaudibly, taking my arm. Oh no! I blushed! What the hell am I doing?
He isn't taking his eyes off me and the way he looked at me made me feel weak in my knees. I thought they would give away. I hurriedly sank down into the chair before he could pull it for me.
He ordered everything that I liked a lot. He knows so much about me...my favourite food, my favourite movies...my favourite...shut up!!!
I hardly touched anything as I was too nervous to eat.
But why am I nervous? Isn't he supposed to be nervous?
Look at him...he is so calm, so composed.
And look at me...I am acting like a fool.
"Anything wrong?" he said, touching my hand lightly, "you are not eating anything?"
Yes! It is all wrong! I am not supposed to feel this way...Hell! I am supposed to reject you!!! "No...nothing. It is...ah...I am not hungry," I lied, giggling like a stupid school girl.
He looked at me, concerned. "Shall we dance?" he said, apparently trying to make me feel comfortable. I'm not here to dance with you, young man! I am here to reject you! "Sure."
He took my arm once again and this time, his touch did wonders to me. I was lost...loosing control...I was walking on the clouds!
He led me to the dance floor and gently pulled me closer to him, my arms on his shoulders and his on my waist...there I was dancing with the man I am going to reject, feeling things I had never felt before. God! Don't do this to me!
He looked at me, into my eyes and any Little control I still had over myself was now, completely lost. I was hypnotised...by his charm... by his touch...
I wanted to break free and flee. I wanted to blurt out all that I had rehearsed at home, earlier today- that I don't love him! I don't love him? Is that true??? Don't I love him?
Or do I?? I love him??? "I love you!"
It was a totally different voice. I stopped dancing abruptly unable to believe my ears. He stared at me, dumbstruck. Or was he elated? I couldn't place the expression on his face. But all he did was kiss me lightly and say, "I never thought you would say it."
"Neither did I," I whispered, smiling, as my heart sang happily the new song it had learnt only a few seconds earlier...I love him...I love him...
He kissed me again, this time with passion...setting my heart soaring in the skies... I rested my head on his chest as he drew me closer and there we were...silently dancing the night away!! Just the two of us...oblivious to the world surrounding us!!!!!!!!

THE BEGINNING OR THE END...

"No! Don't go! Please don't leave me alone. I was screaming within myself. But, I said nothing. I just forced a smile onto my lips. This was what my parents were worried about. And this was what my friends were scared of. In fact, this was what everyone was afraid of and I was no exception. Marriage to an Army Major is no easy affair... I knew it. But, it didn't help. I was in love and couldn't bear the thought of someone else in my life-not even in my wildest nightmare. "If I have to marry, it would be either him or no one," I declared with indefinite finality. My parents were dumbstruck and so were everybody else. I-who never really bothered about anything in life, I-who lead a life completely carefree and careless, fell in love!!!!! I fell in love-truly, deeply and madly in love... That was the first time I cared for someone else. that was the first time I felt like getting extremely close to someone-so close that he'll remain with me all my life. that was the first time I felt like offering myself to someone. It was a miracle! 'He' was the miracle!! His eyes are magic... His voice is magic... His touch is magic... His nearness is magic... Days with him were like 'a dream come true'... Nights with him were ecstatic... He is my addiction...my obsession...my desire... He is my love... He is my life... It felt funny at the beginning just to think that I could have such intense feelings or such a wild desire for someone. Now, it is no longer funny. I can only feel a deep sense of grief sending away 'my man' straight into the claws of the inevitable DEATH!!! I cant let him go... I cant let him die... I cant stop him...because, I had long back realised that he belonged to the nation first and only then did he belong to me... I watched his lean figure moving away from me. "No! Don't go!" I was still screaming within myself. "I'll be all alone. I cant face the hostile world alone. Please! Don't...!!" He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, as if he heard the agonizing cries within me. He turned back to look at me. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I looked at him, hopefully. He smiled at me for the last time and continued... I stood there staring at him, until he disappeared, praying silently... praying ardently... praying God to spare him... Praying that this should not be the end... This should not be the end...This cannot be the end... Or is it?! Hell! No!! It cant be!!! It was just the beginning of something much awaited. I just began my life with him only a week back!!!!

MEMORIES FROM THE PAST...

It was almost about ten years back, that I had seen the last of him.The memory still remains fresh in my mind.
The picture of the unmistakable expression of grief on his face was etched on my mind. It was a heart-breaking sight for me, continually blurred by the tears welling up in my eyes-it was equally hard for me, or probably, harder.
I had always dreamt of a beautiful life with him- the man who adored me and whom I adored. My dream never turned into reality. Life moved on and so did I.
Do I still love him? May be not. But, in some corner of my heart, underneath the memoirs I had been compiling during all these years are the memories I had shared with him...spent with him...
Gone were those days when I had spent almost every second either with him or his thoughts. Walking the beaches at evenings, dancing with him under the moon...these things seemed to have occurred just yesterday.
Do I love him? May be not. But still, I hold a special place for him in my heart. He would remain there always, as long as I'm alive.
Though fate had tore us apart, it cant take away from me his memories...not fate, not God, not anyone.
My eyes suddenly turned moist. I was crying???!!!
I felt a tugging at my dress and was instantly drawn from my thoughts about the past into the present, the reality. I smiled at my only child, as I lifted it up and walked away leaving the fragrances of the reminiscences from my past...